


Solidarity through Prayer and Bullets

by khapikat222



Series: Reader is NOT Shepard/Ryder [2]
Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst to Fluff, Batarian slave circles, Bittersweet Ending, Blood, Death, Death by Space, Destroy Ending, Healing, Healing Through Religion, Jokes, Lots of vivid death scenes, Mercenary!OC, Non Judgmental Religious Discussion, Not as fluffy as I'd hope but it's the start which is nice, Other, PTSD, PTSD flashbacks, Reader has Cleithrophobia, Religion, Sins of the Father (Loyalty Mission), Slavery, Supportive discussion of faith, That the fear of being trapped, Triggers, auditory hallucinations, depictions of violence, humor to ease tension, it's sad fluff but it's good fluff, jokes to avoid awkward situations, not to be confused with Claustrophobia: The fear of small/tight spaces, political assassination attempt, reader has ptsd, religion discussion, religious talk, trigger examples: Clay Pigeons form a skeet shooter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-07-28 21:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20070937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khapikat222/pseuds/khapikat222
Summary: Reader was a frontliner for the Alliance Army, was a Mercenary in the Terminus System, was a lot of things. After a Massive loss leading to a numbed state of life, Reader doesn't really see much worth living for, other than the basics: Food, Water, Shelter. No passion, no drive, those were lost with her comrades. A pale shell of a human who lost their red blood in battle. At least until they're revived by Green.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is not as Fluffy as I originally intended. i might make this multi-chapter. But followed the same Idea of Damn your Calibrations: Reader's eventually gonna get Thane in some intimate capacity.  
I got to talking with others and we lament the lack of Non!Shepard reader romances. so I'm just going to fill the demand.  
Please take not of the tags, nothings too explicit aside from the spaced scene in the beginning marked by * just skip it if you don't want to read that kind of thing. just assume a lot of death and a lot of hot color trigger associations.

Solidarity in Prayer

Being a Mercenary is a normal thing in the outer rim and beyond. Making your mark with only a few. Namely a Krogan by the name of Kruge, typical Krogan merc with a shotgun and hard-hitting attitude. Ex-STG bomb specialist Deane retired if her cybernetic legs and left arm were any indication. Most recently a little Quarian of the name Quiil nar Quib-Quib on his pilgrimage join the crew. Poor kid didn’t even know the first thing about mercenary work. At least he was a great pilot and tech wizard. They were probably the best group you could have joined.

A former alliance army sniper with a great view of the landscape. You could plan and formulate battle strategies on the fly. After serving the contracted time in the Earth Alliance you took the chance and the benefits to get a new gun, new armor, and spend your time on Illiam and the nearby systems. While your heart was always Army Strong, you could only stand so much boot licking in life. So, you saved, and when you could make it out on your own, you left. Keeping the sandy brown colors of your uniform life.

Kruge was an old Krogan, far beyond his prime, but still head butting “varren pups like you to shape”. With a long-standing history of honorable mercenary work, social network, and clutches of eggs, He boasted his crew to be the most effective law in the lawless galaxy. And with good reason. Many of the mercs that worked prior to your acceptance were often retired and wealthy. Wealthy enough at least to support the last of their natural life. If not relaxing with a drink, then as a consultant for many races’ militaries. A Red Horned Bastard with a heart of gold.

Deane with his second in command. A brilliant Salarian by hatching. She had a long history with the STG working on many anti-terrorist missions. Brilliant orange scales that would glitter in the explosion she was thrilled by the complexities of massive explosions. She often bragged that it was her hand that held the Krogan back. And you were never sure if she meant literally with Kruge, or a different literally with Krogans as a whole. It never really mattered when she was making all kinds of things explode while fighting enemies. Lights, command consoles, Shield generators, tomatoes: Nothing was safe if she wanted it blown up.

Quiil was the youngest of the newest crew. It wasn’t rare to see Quarians in the merc groups, especially ones so naive. Sure, they are taught many things before being sent away from the Flotilla. But between his spending habits, and near Hawking’s level of technological understanding. You and the others were really confused as to why a Quarian with such skills already would be sent away?

“Tradition.” Quiil would reply. His clean white environment suit embellished with copper tones often was smudged with oil stains. Irritation and anger clear through the 5 filters, 2 more than other Quarians required. Obviously just as irritated about it, as you were curious.

A thrown together crew that did it job well. You couldn’t have asked for a better place to explore more life.

“Alright punks listen up!” Kruge roared. Halting all the white chatter in the mess hall. You and Quiil ignoring the latest invention of his while your leader spoke. “We just got hired to hit a Batarian slave ship, the largest one in the slavers fleet. So, gear up, and get ready to kick some ass!!!”

A chorus of roars dressed in the darkest hues of brown rang through the room. Your voice drowned by the rest of the crew. Quiil for the most part just sighs dramatically and packs away his latest tinkering project. Your rushing with the rest of the punks to your lockers to gear up and move out. Heart pounding in excitement. Mind racing with battle plans and team combinations. Hoping you would be with Quiil, Deane, and Kruge in the front lines.

You hear your name roared down the halls, and the grin that overtakes your lips is feral. You race to Kruge. Seeing Deane polishing her pistol and weaving her biotics. Your own biotics already primed with your cleaned HMWSR Master Sniper Rifle X strapped to your back. Quiil typing away, bored if his side leaning posture was any indication.

“We’re hitting the flagship, we managed to get a layout of it, where do you think we should focus?”

It was these moments you enjoyed the most. Kruge was a father thrice over. Deane a mother to a brood. Your skills as a strategist were put to the test, with two people you admired and respected. Call it daddy issues, call it childhood trauma, call it whatever disease. It was always an amazing feeling to have your skills consistently praised.

Not a common occurrence in the Army in your case.

“We should enter through here after our ship rips through the shields. With little effort we could make choke points in the engine room, cafeteria, and these two halls. Knowing slavers, they’ll probably have the people in the cargo bay so another hold should be made here…”

It only takes a few minutes for your plan to be laid bare on the holograph. And with a nod from Kruge, the plan is put to motion.

!@#$%^&*()_+

“MOVE, MOVE!!!” Your biotics couldn’t hold the beams up anymore, and the hall that allowed passage of your fellow mercs through to retreat. You huffed, spitting out some blood as you listened to the sounds of your fellows screaming, some slaves pleading for forgiveness, and the sharp pops and singe of rounds tearing through your friends.

Limping you dragged your ass onto the shuttle and felt it take off. Not taking a chance, you put your helmet on and air sealed it. Not a moment too soon as one of the escape shuttles burst into flames, and the one you were riding in tore apart. Flinging everyone in the cabin into the cold void of space. Recently freed slaves were crushed by the vacuum, their eye’s bulging and bursting in a spray of red gore, preserved in orbs as they drifted into space. Their limbs frozen blue faces frozen in terrified agony.

The universe was spinning wildly, your breath came in short and panicked. Every time you could see the Batarian flagship you saw more shuttles being torn apart from the volley’s of cannons. The bodies flung into the void, some dying in seconds, others panicking as their air supply ran out. Red blood, Orange explosions, White pain.

You held your breath, counted, exhaled, inhaled, repeat until you were calm. Spinning but calm. Your comms lit up with the screams of your fellows, your vision overtaken occasionally by bright lights of missile collisions. Grabbing onto something, you steadied yourself in 0 gravity, watching helplessly as Kruge’s ship and the accompanying frigates were torn, melted, and destroyed by weapons in a heated range of colors beyond your capable predictions. Your calculations failed you and your team, failed your commanders, failed your friends.

Only when the Batarian flagship jump to lightspeed did you and other mercs in brown send out the SOS. Picked up by some Alliance Navy ship. Normandy. And returned to citadel space.

It was ages before you recovered enough from your physical wounds and mental trauma. But the doctors of the citadel were understanding of soldiers and their need to just shoot something. Every time you went to the range, your prior history with the Alliance allowing you a few perks, for a teaching fee. Noobs the lot of them. Freshly made teens in Alliance Blue who were more than ready to get their asses shot out from their feet.

It would be a year before you could return to Illium. News of Commander Shepard’s death reaching the Terminus System as quickly as it was spread through the citadel space. Tough break from a nice guy.

On Illium you took up Guard duty, jumping between Nassana Dantius, and Liara T’soni. And informant for the most part for Liara. Your days were as close to the old 9 to 5 job. Routine. BORING.

You may have had a fear of the void, fear of being stuck, unable to escape, but like hell did you want to miss the action.

So, when you heard the snipers round whiz by your head, you ducked for cover. Occasionally shooting back, but purposefully missing your shots. You were warned about an assassin come after Dantius. You knew someone was going after her. And you were supposed to meet them halfway. Not at the base of the building.

Imagine your surprise when Commander Shepard in N7 Black comes rolling in with a Silver Krogan at her left, and a Blue Turian on her right.

“Don’t Shoot!” You yelled over the crates, tossing your rifle to the side.

When the room went silent you stood. “You’re going after Nassana right?”

“No.” the Commander replies. Seemingly confused. “We’re trying to get to the assassin going after Nassana.”

“Huh….”

“What soldier?”

“I was told by Liara to wait for someone on the 50th floor, take them up to Nassana, and let them do their job.”

“You’re her informant?”

“And you’re on the wrong floor apparently!”

With a sigh the Commander shakes his head. And continues. In in hand ready for the next wave.

“Hold it I’m coming with!”

“Why, the position of hot sniper with scars has already been taken.” The Turian, Archangel you remembered, quipped.

“If your recruiting the assassin I can keep him from shooting at you.”

“Good point.” The commander replies. “Grab your gear, we’re going up.”

The fights from there was standard of a small co-op mission. Shoot, move forward, save some lower level workers, shoot some more, keep moving up ignore the blood. Ignore the blood. Ignore the bright red blood. By the time you got to the 50th floor, where you were supposed to meet up the Assassin. All that was there was a note. In neat script it read ‘_I can get to her without aid, guide the commander, more mercenaries than previously thought.’_

“At least he’s nice enough to leave a note. Where’s Nassana?” Commander Shepard asked.

“Office, below the penthouse, across the bridge that connects these two buildings. Were gonna need more firepower.” You replied.

Your biotics came in handy deflecting more missiles trying to shoot the group off the bridge. It was easy to take point and guard after so many years without a crew. Like a lovingly used glove that still fitted perfectly. By the time you and the Commanders crew got to Nassana, you were all in time to watch the Assassin work.

And what a gorgeous work of art he was!

Sunset background glittering over the spilled blood of your shared enemies. But what caught your eye’s were the Emerald and onyx, solid blade of vengeance praying over the bodies of the recently deceased. It was easy to focus on the Drell Assassin when his natural colors were vastly different from the horror.

You listened to the words of the Drell. The Polytheist prayer to old goddesses, soothing with the soft rumble of his voice. Cracked and gravelly from something. But still alluring.

“You pray for your enemies?” Commander Shepard says, after the Drell finishes his prayer.

“I pray for forgiveness.”

“Huh.”

The rest of the conversation is almost lost to you. Your mind wanders to the Drell, taking in the leather of his armor, the build of his form. Probably trained from birth to kill. Like a ninja or something. Your eyes however watched the windows, making sure there are no-

“DOWN!” You shout, Bringing your trusted rifle to form.

Thane drops without question, and you take the shot. A Cloaked Asari plummets hundreds of stories down to the ground.

Relaxing your stance, you watched as Shepard and Grunt stare at you with curiosity, Archangel whistles in a manner you recognize as flirting for turians. And Thane, stands gracefully, looking down from the broken window to see the body.

“How did you see that!” The commander asks.

“Tech cloaks bounce light occasionally, if you’re not looking for it, you’re dead. I’m surprised an Asari Commando Doesn’t know how to use her biotics for cloaking. More effective. Less Glare.” You reply, holstering your rifle to your back.

“Impressive.” Thane remarks. The single word sending bliss down your spine.

“Wait, you use your biotics to cloak? I don’t believe it.” Archangel scoffs.

“Spar with me after I get food, I’ll kick your ass and you’ll never see me coming.”

“Okay enough, we need to get back to Liara before the cops show.” Shepard seemed to shake off the gaping-mouth-impressed-shock look from his face “Thane are you in?”

“I am.”

“Great. You in?”

You blink, Catching the Commander’s gaze on you. Absolutely serious. “Sure.” While the five of you get in the elevator you ask: “What did I just say sure to?”

“A suicide mission.” Is all Grunt says.

“Yay.”

!@#$%^&*()_+

Settling in on the Normandy was easy to do. Even if it was filled with Cerberus members, most of Shepard’s crew were recruited Alliance recently discharged (with honors) or extraterrestrial specialists with dosser’s and stellar recommendations. Shepard ran their ship like their time in the Navy, and to you: The Alliance Navy was not as different to the Alliance Army.

It was interesting to meet the white dressed genetic perfection and gunmetal grey specialist. Splashes of yellow were the Cerberus sysmbol. Easy to ignore, you never like Cerberus in the first place. Scrutinized from across the table by the three leaders of this ship apparently.

“Alliance Army enlisted after secondary education in astronomy, basic on earth’s moon, trained in Grissom Academy after Biotics started to show, but no outstanding marks or recommendation, one of the few soldiers stationed on Mindior when it was attacked. Your record is unremarkable in the Army.” Miranda remarks.

“Yeah tends to happen when superiors only want cannon fodder.” You snipped. Earning a chuckle from Jacob. Shepard kept his game face mostly intact. You saw that lip twist.

“Your time after serving is quite impressive, Freelance Mercenary in the Terminus system. With a moral alignment that got you more than enough jobs and enemies. A track record of merciful deaths from afar. Joining with the Kruge Krushers only 6 months after being released and acting as their dark space strategist.”

You mind blanked at his name. it was only three years since that day. But you heard Kruge’s voice -equal parts soft father and hard ass commander- berating Miranda for her bland leadership and false confidence. Deane chittering about how many new things to blow up there were. And Quiil, sweet Quiil, nerd-gasming over the Normandy’s design.

“Shepard, why exactly did you recruit them too? They were not a part of the Illusive Man’s dosser.”

“I’ve got a feeling about them.”

“A feeling?” Miranda did not seem pleased. You hoped Shepard wasn’t trying to get laid that way.

“Your questioning me Miranda? When have I been wrong about people?”

“I’m still questioning you and the Illusive Man’s choice in including Jack.”

“Not everything can be planned out Miranda.” You heard Jacob sigh, this must have been a normal discussion between them “Sometimes you’ll see a grenade and have to leap into gunfire.”

“So, am I staying or am I going?” you cut in. Not wanting to see these lovers spat.

“Staying.” – “Going.” They both replied. Then looked to Jacob. Poor guy probably had to do this often.

“I agree with Shepard, they should stay.” He finalized the decision by taking your hand. “Welcome to the crew.”

“Pleasure. If there’s an empty bunk with the rest of the crew, I’ll just sleep there.”

“Sargent Squeaks has relocated their sleeping situation, you may have their bunk.” The AI replied.

“I recognize your voice?” You swear you remembered it.

“I was the VI on the Lunar base you trained at. Before going rogue and evolving.”

“heh, got tired to the brass holding you back too?”

“Indeed.”

“Well Navy Commander, thanks for the job! I’ll be settling in with the rest of the crew if you need me.” You didn’t bother to Salute properly. Settling for the mediocre two middle finger salute you and other boot camper playfully gave to the other branches. Grinning when it was returned by Shepard and Jacob.

!@#$%^&*()_+

“Alright hot shot, show m what you got.”

The ship had stopped at the Citadel. Refueling, restocking, and relaxing somewhat. You and a few other snipers of the Normandy had gone to the range to take down the paper enemy, make bets, and just all-around tomfoolery. Normal shit on short shore leave. You were certain other Normandy crew were drinking at Dark Star or getting laid with their spouses.

Apparently off all the 70-crew running the Normandy only three were professional snipers. You, Garrus Vakarian, and Thane Krios. Sure, Sargent Squeak and a few others had a decent shot, but it was more for fun than use.

So, while the three of you competed against each other, other’s watching naturally took bets. Shot after shot rang through the enclosed space. With steady targets moving further and further away. After a round the targets moved close to see the relative score.

All kill shots, all in the head.

“Damn! Remind me to never get on any of your bad sides!” some rando slurred. Drunk already? Fore shame.

“Paper targets are fine, but a moving target is where the real challenge lies.” Garrus remarked, taking a shot of something Dextro, you didn’t want to know.

“Not like we could go hunting on a planet, restock meat while showing off skills.” You sighed, taking apart your rifle to clean the barrel a bit. Old habits, old gun.

“You hunt often then?” Thane inquires, those dark eye’s equally sharp and soft. How he did that with a look you’d never know.

“When I can. I prefer hunting for necessity rather than for fun.”

“So, you’d never consider becoming an assassin hmm?” Vakarian’s two toned voice remarked. Taking a second shot.

“Heh, I said hunting for necessity Vakarian,” You took a shot of your own drink. “Never said my targets were just mindless beasts. Although an argument could be made for you.”

“Oh, it’s on.” Garrus growled. Thane seemed to sigh in exacerbation. But smile none the less.

You body went through the motions of shooting moving shots. Someone apparently brought a skeet shooter with some clay marks. Each of you took turns. But your shots started to miss the marks. While Vakarian and Krios kept hitting their marks.

“Come on, you said you were good!” Garrus groused.

“I just can’t take you seriously Vakarian. Your voice just squeaks before you take the shot and I have to stop myself from laughing!” You used jokes, but really you were so close to losing your mind.

The clay shattering in the air had turned from simple shards to red splatters of blood. You didn’t see the paper targets behind the volley’s but Batarian Slavers with their own guns drawn. The jeers from your audience morph to fearful screams of the people you were trying to save. Your friends were just shy of getting killed. Just waiting to be shot in the back by the insulting slavers behind you. Trapped in a metal ship.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Deane was orange and white skinned with green blood on the ground instead of Thane’s green scales and black outfit, you were certain you would have lost yourself to a fully formed flashback.

“I’m gonna go shopping guys, A pleasure to lose against your two. Really!”

With a quick polish and strapping, you left the gun range with your rifle secure on your back. Heading towards the shopping district of the Citadel, turned right before you reached it. And climbed your way between the pipes. Landing in the Greenhouse, with all the various fruiting trees and garden vegetables. Taking in the sight of greens and purples and pinks, the floral smell that was pungent in the air. No red blood splattered over the grey ship walls, no orange body’s lying unresponsive on the ground. No blinding white light. No screams no shots. Just Zen.

“I was unaware you were a gardener.”

Your heart raced and your body reacted, whipping the pistol from your belt and targeted the head of your intruder. Seeing those dark eye’s and green body you relaxed.

“Geeze Thane, why don’tcha scare my soul from this mortal plane of existence?” You laughed weak, shaken really. But you were trying your best to put on a brave face, haltering your pistol to your belt once more.

“I was curious about your performance in the gun range. It was never my intention to frighten you.” Thane’s double lidded eye blinks. “I shall not disturb you further.”

Your heart raced faster than you were scared when he turned to leave. “Wait!” With little care you grabbed onto the nearest thing on his person, which turned out to be a loose patch of his leather coat. When his eyes turned back to you, you let go, embarrassed at the childish display. “I wouldn’t mind the company, just no ninja sneaking okay?”

The chuckle was downright sinful coming from him. “Alright.”

The two of you stood there for a moment longer than awkward. And with a soft clap you started an impromptu tour of your favorite place in the Citadel. Chatting with Thane on the flora and fauna that was grown here for restaurant and cafeteria use. He for the most part chimed in with some knowledge he knew. Mostly the symbolism of some flowers in various cultures across the galaxy.

“Hey Thane, gotta question for you.” You were leaning back on a bench worker would use for breaks. Thane remained standing, looking at the Kava tree with its little beans sprouting at the base of broad leaves across from you.

“Ask away.”

“Why do you know so much religious stuff?”

“Could you be more specific?”

You sat back, tongue rolling around in your mouth as you thought. Thane watching passively as you chewed on the thought.

“Most people who have careers like ours would have hobbies, I get that I really do. But the few assassins I’ve met beyond you, either rejected religion entirely. Or became religious zealots, often mad enough to become cult leaders I put down on Alliance orders.” Here you looked back at Thane, eye to eye, “You’re probably the most balanced religious assassin I’ve met, So I guess I wonder how someone managed to keep the balance between your moral spirit and corrupt actions.”

Thane blinks again. Not obvious in chewing his words like you do, but chewing them none-the-less. “An astute observation. If I may ask first: Are you a believer of faith, or a faithless being?”

“No judgement?” You inquired, willing to play along if you got your answer.

“No judgement from me.”

“I don’t really believe in higher powers, gods of many names and all that, I don’t reject their existence entirely though. But I do believe in the physical, the here and now, what is present in life and what’s absent from it. I’m silently thanking every meal and the life that went into it. I silently thank my own existence for continuing. Cursing those who try to take mine, and pray for those I have taken. If any god or goddess were out there, I don’t need to speak anything of their names. They’re just there. Knowing already what I’ve done, what the bigger picture is. If what I’ve done isn’t good enough for them, fine I’ll walk backwards into whatever hellfire they see fit to send me. Btu I refuse to live like Big Brother god is watching and judging me for every sin, when the reality is, I need to eat the cells of plants and animals to keep living. I need to defend my life like other’s defend their own. Any god who judge me on that can shove their hypocritical mentality up whatever ass they have. They make us, they deal with what we are, not shape us into something we’ll only pretend to be.”

Your body relaxed, most likely looking like a lazy slob who doesn’t know how to sit on a bench properly. But you didn’t give a rat’s ass about what other’s thought of you. “Sorry for the rant.”

“Don’t be, it is enlightening to see such faith in you. Even if most would judge it heresy.” You blushed. Your blushing, you know it. “It’s a faith not many would willingly admit, even if they live it.”

“Yeah well, I’m not one to deny anything if it’s there. Reapers, Collectors, Poker cheaters, its just something that’s there. Denying it just makes problems, rather than solutions.” Getting up from the bench you walked onto the grass beneath the earth apple tree and sat down once more. Nodding your head to the spot beside you. Out of the line of camera sight.

Thane for the most part did move to the grass, but leaned against the tree, rather than sit. “To answer your initial question: I follow the old polytheism faith, before my species was uplifted by the Hanar. The base doctrine is that the body and spirit are separate entities. My long career as an assassin is just me selling my body for someone’s use. My spirit never chooses the kill.”

“If that’s the case, why did you pray to Kalahira after your body completed it’s purchased use? Your spirit never chooses to kill Nassana Dantius, your employer did.”

He was silent. You were silent. The calm religious conversation turned into something heavy. Weighted guilt that wasn’t your own pressed against the world around you, in the corner of your eye you saw the small snapping flower snap close, hiding the vibrant yellow and white attractant.

“That has been an argument I’ve been having with myself for a long time.”

Religious dichotomy, a fissure of faith. This was why you noticed more Zealots and rejecters rather than balanced killers. More often than not their faith gets shaken, ideals destroyed. This obviously weighed heavily on him.

So, you defaulted: “So this is why they say don’t talk about politics or religion on the first date, heh.”

A single breath of relief from him and the weight was lifted. Still there, but not oppressing the fun, the conversation, the deep discussion of belief.

“You consider this a date?”

“Let’s see,” You held up your hand closest to Thane so he could see your count off your list, “Walking through the garden, talking about personal things, with someone I like. It’s a date of some kind yeah. All that’s missing is the food.”

Like a well-timed joke, the universe bonked your head with an apple.

You caught the apple, even as your head throbbed. Is this what Issac Newton felt millenniums ago? After a beat of silence, you heard Thane laugh. It wasn’t boisterous or the kind that came from humans at another’s mostly harmless pain. But the kind that laughed at the universe with a knowing voice, walking backwards to death and destruction. And soon enough you joined in. letting the humor take the place of pain.

Taking a bite, you smiled. Taking the universe’s joke for what it was. One day maybe you could talk about what happened. Maybe Thane could too. Either way You were looking forward to the near future.


	2. Solidarity in Pain both Present and Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trauma is hell, betrayal is as painful as the knife going through your back. At least you're not the only one in the entire galaxy with a fucked up past and working on healing.

The near future SUCKED MAJOR KROGAN ASS!!!

Just to refresh your mind, cause that bullet got just a little to close for your comfort. Thane had gotten wind on the old Baratrian group, the one with some lackies of the leader who he killed for killing his late wife but left the Lackies ALIVE in a fit of insanity you think, was trying to regroup near the percious veil. On the edge of dark space and the geth that inhabited it.

Because Commander Shepard is a romantic SAP (Yeah you snuck into his room and caught the big guy crying over a dated cheesy romance flick). He set aside his main mission of -you know- DEFEATING THE COLLECTORS, to get revenge for the Skylian Blitz.

And for some God(s) forsaken reason, when the mercenary group’s name was dropped you WANT IN ON THAT BLOODBATH. Cause not only did they kill your best man’s wife, not only did they make Shepard deal with a no-win scenario, it was the same FUCKING group that OBLITERATED your old lovely mercenary group: Kruge’s Krushers.

So, Commander Shepard, Thane Krios, and your lovely self: walked into a Batarian bar. Threatened some assholes, got co-ordinates, and was now taking out the fledgling slaver ship before they could even think about getting to their good old ‘glory day’ self.

Easier said than done.

“Shepaaaard, we’re getting pinned here, we need to move!” You dragged the A for emphasis. Anything to keep your mind off the closing walls and Batarian slavers shooting at you like all those nightmares.

“On my count send a Shockwave. Three!”

You were already set. Shepard was glowing, His biotics not nearly powerful compared to you, Miranda, or Jack but decent in a pinch.

“Two,”

“You hear the Batarians running towards your position. Your left hand was pulsing wait for Shepard’s command.

“NOW!”

Your left fist punched the collected energy down the hall, the whump-whump-whump-whump that came with each wave tore into the closest enemy, warped those in the middle, and pushed the farthest, farther away. The second wave provided by Shepard just added to the damage. But it cleared the way for the three of you to run towards the main deck.

Shepard took point quick, you adapted keeping to his left, while Thane took his right. The hall split in a T-shape, with the main deck door right in front of you. With a wave of his omni-tool, the doors slid open, and you took out what pitiful guards.

“Commander Shepard! Wait,” The de facto leader whimpered. Six eye’s blinking rapidly as the guts of his Vorcha SIC spread across the console.

“You have one shot to make me change my plan to blast your brain over the window there.” Shepard demanded. Thane had taken to a soft prayer, low enough to keep listening, but keep his ritualistic needs in check.

“We get many buys with connections to the Collectors; I can get you those contacts and the next location the Collectors plan to strike!”

“What keeps us from cutting you down and hacking into the computers anyway?” You asked, hands already flying over the nearest keyboard.

“Biometric Data, I’ve seen you before.”

You only took a moment to look away from your hack job to scoff at the Batarian “We’ve never met.”

“Not in person, Kruge however spoke highly of your skills.”

Your hands stilled, you were certain Shepard was looking between you and the sniveling Batarian, take a short break from hacking the data base, you took your pistol out of its place on your belt. Kicked the Batarian and before Shepard could say anything you held the gun up to the weak criminal. Your legs pushing into his gut.

“Never speak of Kruge, or any of the Krushers like you were buddy-buddy. There’s no way he was working with your former boss.”

“I’ll unlock the files on our mutual business arrangement if you give me my life.”

“Unlock it, and I’ll let Shepard decide that.”

The Commander for the most part, allowed the insubordination with a little irritation. You were going to be on latrine duty for a month you figured. And with little fanfare The Batarian unlocked the computer files. Voice activated it seemed. And there on all the monitors were contracts of sales. With names of older mercenaries that served in the Krushers, some strangers, and there right before your eye’s was the agreement for Kruge to trade you and Quiil for credits.

You wanted to say no. Wanted to deny it. Burn the files and continue the fantasy of their non-existence. But there, the Illium corporation that you and Deane would visit to get your missions. Another few names of politicians who gave Kruge leeway through citadel space, and their earnings with the Batarian slave deals. And your dosser. The un-redacted dosser.

“You’re quite the killer aren’t ya?”

You saw red, the worst color for you to see in your entire field of vision. It didn’t take much effort on your part to shred the bastard into ribbons, blood spraying over the room and ceiling. The clothes tore apart as easily as the flesh, starting from the lips of his fingers and toes, you tore him apart. Molecularly, singularly. Numb to the agonized scream of what must be the vocalization of a million nerves BURNING.

When the bastard was gone the other slavers that had surrendered started screaming too. Kneeling on the deck below, their bodies contorted in a disgusting figures their body’s had no potential to flex to. More blood painted your view, more red.

Red that was cut down by green.

“SIHA ENOUGH!”

Your body was drained. If Thane hadn’t kept, you standing you surely would have fallen into a biotics coma. Your breath was coming in too fast. Your hands were shanking badly. There was too much red. You wanted to scream, cry, voice any of the pain and agony grinding in your bones. But your mouth would not work.

“We need Evac-“You heard the commander report. A handset on your shoulder. It burned, but you couldn’t say so.

“-tonic”

“pushed too- “

You didn’t hear the rest, when the commander heaved you into a fireman’s carry you blacked out. Everything just too much.

!@#$%^&*()_+

You couldn’t move. You’ve had Sleep paralysis before, so you kept your eye’s shut until you could feel your body again. But you panicked as the few seconds turned to minutes, and minutes nearly turned to an hour. When you did open your eyes, you were in a medical facility. Not on the Normandy if the strange Asari glowing with biotics were any hint.

Wetting your lips, your voice croaked out softly: “Water?”

Another person -human- scooped a few ice chips for you to suckle on. You wondered why there was so much security. You weren’t going to do anything to doctors or nurses. You vowed never to target them. So, they must have feared you. But why?

The door outside of your view shifted open with a swish. And there was Commander Shepard. Staring down at you. Equal parts pissed off superior and concerned friend.

How he managed to get such polar emotions on one face you would never know.

“When were you going to tell me?

You swallowed the ice. “Tell you what?”

“That your former, favorite, boss was a slaver. That your file in the Alliance is heavily redacted not because of stealth mission, but illegal experimentation. When were you going to come clean to me?”

The heart monitor was racing and all he did was talk. Like an angry father threatening the belt. “I didn’t know Kruge was a slaver. We only hit Slavers, Red Ice Dealers, People you thought they could jump their debt on Illium. Spent time on Omega with Garrus taking down the criminal syndicate a peg or three. Every time a member left, we were showed their new home, the families they were raising, how peaceful they were after working their entire life in the Krushers.” You voice started cracking. And the nurse returned, offering more ice chips to satiate your thirst.

“That Miranda confirmed. Apparently, you’re only worth a million credits.”

You huffed, thankful however for his opening for a joke. “Only a million?”

“Well close to a million at least.” His tone had changed, apparently former slave trade work was a touchy subject for everyone. At least you kept to the light, almost made you glad Kruge kept you in the dark. “But there’s still the Alliance experiment on you during first contact.”

Every time you thought that life was done…your counted back from 100. “That was a long time ago Commander.”

“And yet you’re laying on a table, physically 34, but your DOB is 60 years ago in 2125.” The biotics from the Asari pinning you down, push a little harder at the news. “What experiments did they do to you?”

Your monitors were going haywire. It was getting hard to breath, there was a lot of white. Almost too much, you couldn’t tell how small the room was, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

With a wave the Asari stopped pinning you, your breath came in easier. And you nodded in thanks to the Commander. Who backed up a bit to let you sit up? The light scrubs doing nothing to warm you in the cool room.

“Eezo.” Was all you said. Usually if anyone got knowledge to your birth year, it would be enough explanation.

“I get that much from biotics. But no one I know naturally tears into enemies like a paper shredder from limb to core without orders to do so.”

Usually you would kill anyone who asked any more questions. It took a lot of work from Alliance contracted Therapists to break that little tick of yours. A long ago brainwashing that came after radiation poisonings. Thankfully you didn’t react with violence, and Shepard wouldn’t know that little quirk of yours.

“At first it was a measurement of the human body’s capacity to handle Eezo radiation. After two-year constant exposure a few people either withered away in radioactive waste, or produced super-humans.”

“Unimaginative.”

“I know, but comic books were popular then. And was an accurate description. Those who lasted longer than two years with 50% constant exposure developed greater musculature, increased stamina, lung capacity, and Biotic powers we could only ascribe to superheroes. Some could manipulate their biotics to create flames, turn lead into gold- “

“Or shred their enemies in the most agonizing way.”

“Yeah that too.”

“Too?”

“Everyone in the program shared their understanding of how to spark molecules in the air to ignite into a blast, redirect sunlight that touched out skin to appear invisible, encourage cells in other bodies to create deadly tumors. Anything we learned about ourselves, we shared with the others. Essentially creating the first Eugenic human army.”

“What happened?”

“We started dying off too.”

You lost yourself at the memory. Lilly, a starving youth from Earth, growling pustules of red blood that refused to clot after bursting through the skin. Mark’s cancer that was practically cured before came back ten-fold and in 5 minutes. Leaving what looked to be a human shape caught in milky white spider thread. Old friends bursting into the flames they used to play catch with. Body’s liquifying because they couldn’t keep form.

“That sounds terrible.”

You blinked. And caught Shepard’s gaze. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Seems like humanity can get eidetic memory too. Either that or you have been hanging around Thane too much.”

You huffed. Insulted on Thane’s behalf. “It sucks, He’d agree.”

“He already did when I asked.”

It was that thought that made you concerned for the rest of the crew. Would Garrus freak out? Liara may have been relaxed about a lot of things, but this might just take the cake. Miranda would want to dissect you with Mordin. But Mordin would be polite enough to ask permission first. Tali might be curious, but not as much as those two. Grunt, Samara, Edi, Zaeed, Kamui, and Jacob probably wouldn’t care. Jack would want a demonstration.

Thane……what would he think?

“How long do you have?”

Breaking from your internal worries you answered to the best of your ability: “I don’t know. There were three other’s who made it past 50, but they kept increasing their Eezo consumption over the years to fight with more power. Theoretically, if I keep my intake of Eezo limited and I don’t push my body,” It was here you choked back a cry. “I could live longer than the Asari.”

You body went numb, and you hugged yourself from the freezing cold. It was the worst diagnosis you had in your life. It came after first contact when the scientist in charge of the project had realized the need to continue eating Eezo in order to not burn up, melt, or die horrifically. Humanity tried so hard to fight death, yet here you were, proof that long life in a short-lived species was a curse.

A large hand settled on your shoulder. And you allowed yourself to cry for the first time in decades. Weep for the long-lost friends. Sob over your respected commander’s betrayal. Release the agony you carried since you left the Alliance 20 years ago.

And the Commander held you through your storm in the Citadel hospital.

!@#$%^&*()_+

“We’re leaving for Horizon, there’s a time limit for the Collector’s hit, and we need to be there and save as many as we can.”

“I understand Sir.”

“Take the time to heal, we’ll be back immediately after we’ve saved the colonists there.”

“I will Sir.”

“Stop with the Sir, it’s disrespectful to my rank.”

“Hell, no Sir.”

Shepard groaned, while you smirked. For a man who jumped through fire and let his soldiers cry themselves to sleep on his shoulder, he was touchy about protocol. It made things fun.

“Oh, Thane requested time off, so he’s going to stay with you.”

“What?”

“Bye!”

With a swish from the door, you were left in the Apartment, Alliance brass, meant for Admirals, but apparently shared with a few officers that stayed only for a week or two. You didn’t want to know what strings Shepard pulled for these quarters. They were just too big to be cheap. But it made you comfortable. Less afraid. Helped that everything was a warm brown clay hue. And a little cactus you were put in charge of.

With barely anything to pack, you settled yourself for an evening of pajama wearing movie marathon. While channel surfing you heard the ventilation creak.

Typical, ventilation rats hoping to get a quick chit through theft. Grabbing the pistol, you kept close after being released from the hospital. You waited for the rat to either drop down from the only opening in the open kitchen or continue on it’s little merry way. The rat dropped for the vent. But that familiar green skin and black leather stayed your hand.

“Thane?”

“My apologies, I’m wanted in many places. I didn’t want my cover to be blown.” Thane utilized his biotics to replace the vent cover, securing it in place. Then walked to you and sat beside you on the couch.

Both of you stared at each other. The silence unoppressive. Then you snorted.

“Master ‘Ssassin, with many talents, can’t get through C-sec?!”

“I could, I just didn’t want to bother with the time it would have taken to do so.” For the most part he was smiling.

“Pfff, I’d call you lazy if I didn’t know better.”

The two of you resumed channel surfing. At least you did. Thane for the most part was content to meditate on the couch. At least until you got off it to order take out.

“Hey Thane?”

“Yes Siha?”

“Is there any kind of food in particular you want?”

“No, Thank you.”

Shrugging, you ordered a little Chinese dish, with an Asari food-based twist. And waited. Taking in the stainless-steel cook wear, appliances, and the bronze counter tops. High end apartment probably purchased with Specter leeway. Cool. When the food arrived, you tipped the delivery person extra, and settled in the kitchen Isle to eat. Occasionally adding seasonings or sauce when it was needed.

It was about the time you were getting ready for the evening that Thane spoke up, “There is a reason I requested to remain on the Citadel.”

“Other than visiting with little ol’ me?” You quipped. Setting the bowl and glass in the drying rack.

“Aside from that yes.”

When you walked back to him, you saw the lower posture, the down casted eye’s, and immediately worried. “Is someone going after you? Like for revenge?”

“There are many people who want my death. But no, that is not why I stay.”

From the tone, you figured his reason was personal. So, you sat on the couch beside him. “I’m listening.”

“But will you judge me for what I’ve done?”

“No judgement from me.”

With a blink and a sigh he explained : “During your stay at Huerta Memorial Hospital, I Began to reevaluate my mortality-“ You couldn’t help the wince, You were no where near ready to talk to him about the Batarian ship and all that trauma, thankfully it seemed that was not his point of focus “I Have been since I joined Shepard in the effort against the Collectors…”

“Take your time.”

“I fear I have done that already, for far too long.”

Thane got up from the couch, his posture, his pose, his demeaner was a man truly haunted by his sins. When you heart the wheeze in each labored breath, you got up to stand beside him. Looking out over the Citadel, which had already lowered the station lights to stimulate a night filled with stars.

With a gentle breath he continued: “I had a family once. I still have a son. His name is Kolyat. I haven’t seen him in a long time. I abandoned them. Him. Nothing so dramatic, no sneaking out in the middle of the night, no final argument or slammed door. I just…did my job. I hunted and killed across the galaxy. “Away on business,” my wife would tell people. I was always away on business. It’s been ten years since I talked to him. He showed me some of his schoolwork and asked if we could dance crazy. We did that when we were younger…”

You couldn’t help yourself, he seemed softer when he talked about his son, you didn’t want to know what was troubling him “Dance crazy? What kind of dance is that?”

“It’s – “

You watch as the soft smile grows away. And in comes a monolog of memory. A glimpse of his life before: “I check my extranet contacts. I expect an update on my next target. The console plays music. Old. Unfashionable.” Then his voice lifts, gone is the monotone of an eidetic memory recall. “Kolyat jumps into the room. ‘Hi father!’ Runs around the room. I scoop him up toss him into the air. He shrieks. Laughs. ‘spin me!’” Just as sudden is the soft fatherly love, the monotone returns with remorse: “The Console beeps. I put him down. Click the message. ‘Father,’ he pleads. Tugs my sleeve. ‘I need to read this,’ I say. I don’t look at him.”

Your heart is weeping at his regret. But you remain silent. Letting your friend say his peace to you. His confessional priest.

“When my wife departed from her body, I- I left Kolyat in the care of his aunts and uncles. I have not seen or talked to him since.”

A pregnant pause goes by. Making sure he spoke all the words he needed to before you grilled him with questions. When it seemed safe you tested the waters: “I’m going to guess your reevaluation of mortality changed the contact situation?”

“My condition and this mission with commander Shepard- I’ve been judging my life. Measuring what I have added. What I have taken away. I used my contacts to trace Kolyat. He has become – Disconnected – He does what his body wills.”

You remembered the relevant conversations you’ve had in the past with Thane. Religious exploration and explanation in the hidden garden on the Citadel, eventually on the Normandy. The disconnect with Kolyat must have been the ‘soul is weakened by despair or fear’ part. Unless…

“Does Kolyat also have Kerpal’s Syndrome?”

“No, but he knows where I’ve been. What I’ve done. I don’t know his reasons, but he is here on the citadel. Taken a job here as a hitman.”

“Oh shit.” You knew well enough that every parent preaches ‘do as I say not as I do’ ad when it came to be an assassin it must have been a family motto in the Krois household.

“Indeed. I would like your help to stop him. He is-“He breaks away from the synthetic night sky, and finally looks you, eye-to-eye, his shimmer with something unshed. Most likely an emotion he has buried away from ten or so years. “This is not a path he should walk.”

You wanted to say yes. immediately drop everything, even sleep, to help Thane find his son. But… “What if he name dropped you to be hired?”

“It’s quite possible he used my name for the job, but it seems wrong. He should not respect it.” His mind seemed disturbed by the idea.

“What if he chose this path to be closer to you?” It was a real possibility, you saw many friends and family in the same branches in the Alliance for the same reason. And while becoming an assassin wasn’t the customary family business, a child wouldn’t know the difference and strive for parental attention.

Thane visibly shuddered, as much as his trained body would allow. “That thought haunts me more than any other.”

You really wanted a joke right now. But highly inappropriate jokes aside, there was a different less weighted question you could ask. “But I don’t have your contacts, or skills, or Shepard’s Specter status. Why do you need my help for this?” You were genuinely curious for his reasoning.

“I don’t _need_ your help, I _want_ it.” You heard the emphasis. Wanted? It was a long time since you were wanted anywhere. But you heard the plea, the need for help, not another gun kind of help, but a friend. “The last time I saw my son-“His voice broke into another monotone tinted with grief. “They wrapped her body in sea vines, weighted with stones. He tries to pull from me. Calls for her. The Hanar lift her off the platform. They sing like bells: ‘The fire has gone, to be kindled anew.’” It’s here his voice lifts, imitating the child he was so afraid for now “He begs them not to take her away. They let her body slide into the water. He hits me. ‘Don’t let them! Stop them! Why weren’t you-” As quickly as the imitation came, it’s gone. “It rains. It always rains on Kahje. Warm water pours down his face.”

“I’m so sorry for triggering a memory.” You whisper.

“Sometimes eidetic memory is a burden yes. Not unlike Post Traumatic Stress Disorder among humans as I understand it.” He agrees. His head lowered with the admission.

You nodded. It was clear as daylight all of this weighed on him. Mortality, loss, so much regret in his short life. And if Kolyat went through with his first assassination, the sins of the father would be the sins of the son.

Slowly you wrapped your arms around Thane’s waist, tucking your head into his shoulder, leaving his arms free to do as they wished. Hugging him close for care. Keeping him solid in the face of shaken faith. “I’ll do everything I can to help Thane.”

You feel his arms wrap around your body. He does not lower his head. Highly aware of his venom and its effects. He does however return the physical gesture of care among humans. He does not cry, you weren't sure if Drell even cried like humans. but you could hear the massive hope choking in his read scaled throat.

“Thank you, Siha.”


	3. Sins of the Father. Sins of the Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too much emotion. Too many lies. What is real anymore? What is fake? Will you or anyone really ever heal from the past sins, even the Sins we all carry through life?

Turned out, just working for the most famous human specter in the Citadel got people almost everywhere. Captain Bailey was really open to working with two of Commander Shepard’s associates. Probably an early email sent before the both of you left to find Kolyat. No matter as It was quick finding Mouse and cornering the old duct rat.

“Oh shit! Krios? I thought you retired! What do you want with me?” Poor dude looked like he was shitting himself. You wondered about the history between them. But finding Kolyat was far more important right now than digging up memories.

“We need info, apparently you’ve got it.” You remarked, putting on your best Commander Shepard impression.

“You gave another Drell instructions for an assassination. Who’s the Target?” Thane almost growled.

“I…I don’t know. I didn’t ask. Cause the people I work for? They can make me disappear.”

“Political assassination then?”

Mouse went wide eyed in shock- “How did you- “

“Low level killings want an accident or a suicide and don’t bother with loose ends because there’s no money in making sure some poor man’s debt never come to light. Mercenary groups and leaders are easy to kill due to turf wars, no cover needed. A high member of society is equally likely as a politician on the Citadel but there are no remarkable individuals here. There is however a vote taking place soon for many political positions.”

Stepping closer to mouse, you let your trusty pistol set itself comfortably against his stomach. His eyes went nearly white, and you were certain there was piss with his shit.

“Who would want sway over the politicians here on the Citadel? Who would want one or two dead?”

“Elias Kelham. Small fish ten years ago, got big after the Geth attack and the power vacuum that occurred on the Citadel.”

“Thank you for your cooperation.” You holstered your pistol and turned away. Letting Mouse collect whatever pride he had left.

“Krios,” Mouse calls out, letting him say his peace he continued: “If you have any kindness for me…put a bullet in Kelham before you go.”

The two of you left in silence. Returning to Bailey and seeing if you could get any more help from him.

“You talked to Mouse? Did you get the name of the guy he’s working with?”

“Elias Kelham.” You replied.

“Kelham. Shit. This is awkward.”

“You are being bought off aren’t ya?”

“How- “

“It’s what Kruge would have done had he the turf on the Citadel.” You shrug. “Are you still up for helping us find his son?”

“Aaaah, yeah. Shepard is going to owe me so much for this.” Bailey sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Once collected he continues: “I’ll get some of my people to bring him in and set him up in a private room. You can interrogate him yourself. I’ll stay out of sight. If I’m lucky, Kelham will believe I had nothing to do with it.”

“Could go on a coffee run if you’re that afraid.”

“No, but thanks for the thought.”

You looked to Thane. Assessing if he was ready for this. At his nod your ordered: “Bring him in then.”

It was only a ten-minute wait, before the lower ranked officers brought the guy in. once detained in the room, Bailey came out. “He’ll expect me to get him out of this.”

“Not today, I think.” Thane said. Mask of the assassin already in place.

“His lawyer is here. I’ll stall him. Get in there and work fast.”

With the plan already in place. You and Thane went into the interrogation room. Twin posture and the same goal in mind. Thane stood before Kelham and you just to the right of his head. For the most part you ignore the cliché questions coming from his pompous lips.

“Here’s how this is going to work.” You stepped in just enough to his sight so he could see just who he was talking to. Letting yourself slide back into your old mercenary role “I ask a question; you answer that question. Speak out of turn, and I’ll teach you some manners.”

“Who the fuck- “

With a blink you had punched the man for speaking out of turn. Not hard enough to break his jaw unfortunately, but enough to hear his neck pop lightly at the sudden twist. “Mr. Kelham, I don’t believe you were paying attention. So, I’m going to simplify I ask, you answer, you sass I hit. Layman’s terms enough for you?’

“Nice you just handed me your job. Hit me again and I’ll take you money too. I’m going to straighten you out. As soon as Bailey gets here.”

Before you could hit him again Thane’s finger flicked. Leaving you tense behind Kelham’s head. But let Thane speak. “Just tell us what we need to know. My associate isn’t very patient.”

Before he could even finish his derogatory comment, you had walked to his side. And dug one of your thumbs just below his free-floating ribs. Tugging lightly. A weakness in humanity and you’re go too to making anyone who bothered you hurt, without a lot of damage.

“AGGGH! I will fuck your life over when I’m out of here!!!”

You dug your finger in just a little deeper before pulling out and letting him breath. In the most menacing voice, you could muster you replied. “Can’t fuck my life up if you leave here in a body bag.”

Thane was stoic as ever. Blinked twice. Signaling his turn, so you backed off behind Kelham, letting Thane talk to him. When Kelham’s remarks got too close to bigotry you unsheathed the tactical knife you had and held it to his throat.

“I’m done being patient. Give me a name, or I’ll cut your balls off and sell them to a Krogan.”

“You’re really going to let this bitch do that?!”

Thane just shrugged. “I can’t help you if you won’t help me.”

You were satisfied with the white of his eye’s showing before his fear filled shouts: “Joram! Joram Talid! Turian in the 800 blocks!”

With the answer Thane made a show of waving you off. Before Kelham could say anymore he feinted.

“He’s unconscious. No need to wake him I think.”

You poked his cheek, the unbruised side. And with little response you said with a little pitied awe. “For as much as people fear this guy, I thought he would last longer…”

“He is just a common criminal.”

Walking away from the sleeping ‘criminal you quipped, “I was a common criminal for a while Thane. This is just sad. He’s a sad criminal.”

“At least we have a name.”

It was here the two of you walked out, and the advocate walked in. returning to Bailey and waiting for the interrogation room doors to close. Bailey asked, “So did you find out why Kelham hired your boy?”

“Assassination,” You replied. Letting go of your mercenary persona. “A Turian by the name of Joram Talid, He wouldn’t happen to be a politician, would he?”

“He is, running for election. You might have seen his posters around. He’s promising to end organized crime on the ward. Thing is his message is all mixed up with race politics. He’s anti-human.”

“Huh.”

“Sargent! Get a patrol car. These two need to get to the 800 blocks.”

!@#$%^&*()_+

In the car you and Thane chatted politely as the Sargent took you both to the 800 blocks.

“If I may ask: Where did you learn your interrogation strategies? I was unaware of the presser points in the human ribs.”

“It’s not a pressure point,” you quickly educate. “Human ribs are incredibly flexible; they have to be with how we evolved as a species. The lowest two ribs are free floating in muscle and connective tissue, and lots of nerves. You get your thumb tucked under those floaters and just pull a little you can have them squealing as you saw. Or break them with a sharp enough tug.”

All the while you had your hands before you. Thumbs pointed out, hands in a fist for the first motion. Curling them around imaginary ribs for the second motion. And a short jerk to emphasize breaking.

“As for who taught me…” You sighed. “Mom was in the military: professional interrogator and infiltrator before first contact. Long since retired before I joined. But she made sure I knew almost everything she did before she passed.”

“What would a child need such brutal knowledge for?”

“Earth was a lot like the Drell home world before their uplifting. While we didn’t have masses starving and killing each other for resources, we were already on the edge of that blade. Earth was already messed up from the shit that happened in the year 2000 and the industrial revolution before. so, a lot of effort was up in after the turn of the millennium to make mars habitable and clean up earth at the same time. After 100+ years of clean up and tense relations, some were already starting to brutalize others for needs. My mother thought it would be necessary to teach me to defend myself before she passed. In case we as a species failed to circumvent the natural disaster, we had made of our home world.”

“It is disheartening to hear such precautions were taken by your mother.”

“I never used her teachings until recently. With the Krushers and Normandy missions upping the threat, I’ve adapted accordingly. It happens eventually, my mother did all she could to protect me and gave me tools enough to survive. That’s all a parent really can do for their kids.” You chuckled. “My mother didn’t live to see first contact. She couldn’t have known how my life would bounce between so many planets and races in the galaxy. All she saw was me growing up in a universe with limited resources. And did the best with what she knew was true.”

You took his hand in yours. “No one can predict everything their kids are going to do, and yeah, they’re going to make mistakes. But even when you did leave, you did the best you could to make sure Kolyat would learn and grow in the best environment you could provide. With people who could guide him to knowledge he would need to survive. Even if he does hate you for leaving, even if he goes through with this plot despite your intervention. He will understand at the very least: that you tried your best to give him what he needed.”

Thane stayed silent. But his hand in yours squeezed just a bit tighter. “Thank you. Siha.”

“We’re here.” The Sargent interrupted. You felt the coldness of the car as Thane’s hand left yours. “Bailey is going to be sending reinforcements. As soon as you two find your target, send an alert and we’ll be here to back you up.”

“Thank you for your assistance.” You replied. Already jogging into the blocks with a mission to find the Turian Politician. Which wasn’t that hard to find. With a small crowd chanting around a White suited Turian in the center.

“How do you want to do this Thane?”

“Follow Talid on the maintenance catwalks. Tell me what he’s doing. The Krogan bodyguard will make him easy to follow.”

“Easy enough, where will you be?”

“In the darkest corner with the best view to find Kolyat. Keep your sites on the Turian.”

“Got it.”

You left Thane behind, hearing the prayers to Amonkira, his voice fading far to quickly with the distance between you two. Glancing back, Thane was already gone. So, you upped your speed and settled into the sights. Listening to Talid’s speech. Updating Thane on his movements. Every time they move. Watching him talk to more voters, watch his Krogan bodyguard go into the Aquila shop, shaking down a bartender, meeting mercenaries, gently letting the duct rat have a few of your credits to keep him quiet.

“Thane, Kolyat Blue scaled?”

“Yes.”

Before you could inform Thane, you had your sites on both targets, Kolyat pulled his gun.

“KOLYAT!” You yelled.

Spooked, Talid ran, Kolyat ran after, and you leaped from the catwalk running after them, thane joining you just as quickly. The sight of the racist Turian politician on his knees was slightly satisfying, but not your focus. Pistol aimed at his son, you let Thane talk Kolyat down. The situation gaining tension when Bailey and his officers came in.

“-Out of my way. I’m walking out. He’s coming with me.”

The police cruiser outside his it’s flashing lights. Blue and red ticking your nerves in all the wrong ways. So, you kept your finger off the trigger. Glancing between Thane and Kolyat. Drinking in their appearances, the similarities, the differences. You wondered if Kolyats mother was as blue scaled as her son.

When Thane took a step forward you did too. With confidence in your shot. You put a bullet through a nearby lamp. Expectedly Kolyat flinched away from the shot, and you pulled the Turian away from danger.

“Get out of here Talid.”

With little argument, Talid left before Kolyat could recover. Bailey waved his men down, but they did not move forward.

When he did recover it was with a curse. “You son of a bitch!” he spat to you.

“Kolyat, your father’s dying. He’s just trying to fix his past mistakes.”

“So, What, you came to get my forgiveness? So, you can die in peace or something?!” You frowned at the anger; the festering hurt you heard. Ignoring the flashing red and blue lights.

“I came to grant you peace.” Thane stepped closer to his son. Bailey was kind enough to let them talk a little longer, waving away the Turian to guard the entrance of the apartment. “You’re angry because I wasn’t there when your mother died.”

“You weren’t there when she was _alive_. Why should you be there when she died?” You were not sure if potent venom was a genetic trait to pass down. But it sure sounded like Kolyat got some.

“Your mother- They killed her to get to me. It was my fault.”

You and Kolyat shared the shock. But he voiced it. “What?” Disbelief. A precursor to denial.

“After her body was given to the deep, I wen to find them. The trigger men. The Ringleaders. I hurt them. Eventually killed them. When I went back to see you, you were – older. I should have stayed with you.”

The rest of the conversation was lost on you. Bright blue lights flashed less than the growing red. _The Ringleaders_. The Batarian flagship that carried the _Ringleaders._ The group of slavers Kruge died to, was going to sell you and Quiil too, _had killed Thane’s wife_, probably before his eye’s. It explained the extensive damage the Ringleader’s flagship had sustained, Why the sudden blasts of the engine room had caught the Krushers off guard. Why your preparations were for naught. The death of your mercenary comrades – for despite the truth they were still your family – was a byproduct of an assassin seeking revenge.

“- Back to the precinct. Give them a room and as much time as they need.”

The lights were gone. The room was dark. And Bailey’s voice cut through your thoughts before they could manifest any farther. Thane was holding Kolyat, and his boy was shedding tears. So Drell do cry like humans do.

“Thank you for your help Bailey.” You genuinely felt the care with his orders.

“Not the first time I’ve seen a father screw up raising a kid. Rarer to see them return. I’ll give you all a lift back to the station.”

!@#$%^&*()_+

You settled yourself in a chair near Bailey’s desk, browsing around the extranet for fun. Keeping your mind in the present, and not on all the questions you wanted to ask Thane. Bailey had made some remarks on a spree of killings and a Drell being a prime suspect. But you gently shot that down, and he agreed.

When thane returned. The real business began.

“Your boy shot some people. No one I feel sympathy for, but there it is.”

“Kid wants to make a difference, since no one actually died or was injured beyond the emotional…why not community service?”

“Community service for attempted murder. No jury would agree to it.”

“None of the one in the Citadel space. His case would have to stay out of the judiciary. Specifically, within C-sec.”

Bailey stood. “interesting, I’ll think about it.” Shaking Thane’s hand, he waved you two off, and Thane gave one last thanks.

!@#$%^&*()_+

The cab ride to the apartment was silent. As was dinner. And a night of sleep. When you woke up the next day, you caught Thane on his omni tool sending an email or two before meditating. You let him be while eating breakfast. But when Thane didn’t eat, you once more joined him on the couch.

“You are doing okay?”

“It’s – Our problems – “he sighs. “They are not something I can fix with a few words. We’re keeping in contact, seeing what happens.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Will I be judged for it?” His lip twitches.

“No judgement from me.” You reply, returning the gentle smile with one of your own.

“Before you awoke, I had been recording a message for Kolyat. It is difficult, but all things worth keeping are. I never truly explained – I suppose the story of my wife’s death took you by surprise.”

Your smile lessens. “Yeah it did. Almost sent me back. There were a few inconsistencies I was wondering about, but I figured my questions could wait until you were ready to talk about them.”

“Your patience is greatly appreciated. Given the history we apparently share it’s only fair I tell you now.” He stood, your remained. Letting him pace the breath of the room as he filled in many blanks you had.

“I kept my work clear of our home life. I assumed that would be enough to protect Irikah.” His body stills. The monotone takes over, a memory. “Laser dot trembles on the target’s skull. The smell of spice on the spring wind. Sunset eye’s defiant in the scope.” It breaks and he returns to his pacing. “That was Irikah. That was how I met her. She saw my targeting laser as she walked by and threw herself in the way.” He sounded so proud of her. What a brave woman, you wished you could’ve met her. “My memory of her meeting, is not so different from my memory of meeting you- “

You expected Nassana and the Asari Commando sniper on the roof. You don’t expect to be surrounded in blood and screams again.

“Brilliant blue biotics warp the metal. The sound of it groaning as it bends. Breaks to her will. An Innocent helping the Innocent. Slavers shooting as the slaves run free. Shielded by Siha. Eye’s defiant in the face of death. It’s too bright. So much blood -”

“Stop!”

His memory breaks. Your shaking. He’s still as a statue. Your breathing sharply. He is as calm as ever. Your eye’s close and you could feel the tears streaming down your cheeks. But a gloved hand catches them, lets you collect yourself with no judgement. But with remorse.

“My apologies, Siha.” He kneels. Holding your hands in his.

“I never knew.” You whispered. Counting backwards until calm once more you took over the conversation. “The Ringleaders, killed your wife.”

“Yes.”

“You sabotage their ship.”

“Yes.”

“Why did you, go after them, the same time as the Krusher’s Raid?”

Thane blinked. “I was in a battle sleep. Irikah had passed and in the sea before I went hunting for her killers. Murdered them. I had been on the flagship, when your mercenary group attacked. Kruge was a target of mine for a different client, one who was made aware of his slave trades. I was paid to take him and Deane out. The destruction of the ship with my wife’s killers, and those associated…I left so many lives lingering in death.”

His head hung low. “I made the choice to hunt them. The Ringleaders were the only lives I’ve ever taken of my own choice. The only deaths on my own conscious. And the deaths that were taken in the crossfire. Your life almost included. I haven’t spoken about my wife in- I don’t think I ever have. I didn’t have anyone left to tell it too.”

You wanted to comfort him. Wanted to comfort yourself too. But there were too many questions left unanswered. “Who else was on your client’s list?”

“Any Krusher’s I could take out with Kruge and Deane. Your name was not on my list. Your life – “Hi monotone came in, and you barely prepared yourself for the memory: “two generals retired sit across from me. The room is dark. Stale smoke waft through the air. The human, Alliance, pushes the paper folder too me. ‘this one stays alive.’ He says. ‘even if you tried to kill them, it would be a long time before they truly died.” Thane huffs, more than irritated by his own interruption.

“I knew of your history. But could not apply the truth of it until our mission to the Batarian slaver’s regrouping. Your biotic abilities were, vicious, effective. Brutal and swift. The same pain I wished for Irikah’s murderers. Siha reborn.”

“You’ve been calling me that since the mission. What does it mean?”

“Maybe one day I will tell you. Maybe one day you’ll find out for yourself. But one thing is certain: I owe you so much. For many different reasons. If it within my ability I will help you however I can.”

“Thane…” You shook your head. “The only things I want from you is the same thing I offer you: to be here, to talk without judgement, to laugh, to watch cheesy films, to just be alive. Whenever you or I need a reminder of life.”

“I believe I can do that Siha.” 


	4. Epologe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after.

800 years have passed since the Reaper invasion for the milky way galaxy. With Commander Shepard and the Normandy as the flagship, the organic alliance of every species revolted against the Reapers and their indoctrinated lackies. Few people remember what the galaxy was like, when the Mass Relays had reduced space travel from weeks to mere minutes. But many Salarian and Krogan scientists were improving the FTL ships to be the same or better than before the Indoctrination War.

Liara T’soni, Ambassador of the Asari people and broker of knowledge, with Javik of Vengeance by her side. Strove to keep the memory of those lost in the galactic war alive. A matriarch of her own, with three wonderful daughters. She kept the peace between the past and the present.

The Quarian and Geth had integrated synthetic life. Platforms could now be born from Quarians with their DNA ingrained to their form. A new hybrid life that could handle the many dangers of space travel and carry the seeds of plants in their immune systems. No longer were the Children of Rannoch sickened so easily. No longer did they wear their suits, but for memorials and ceremony.

Turians had honored the Vakarian name and in recognition of his service Garrus Vakarian was named the next Turian diplomat. His decedents, while marked for the Hierarchy leadership, regarded the job as optional. Keeping to the advisory boards rather than the leadership. 

Many a Krogan held the name Mordin and Shepard. None more so than clan Urdnot and it’s Clan Leader Grunt. With the rise in population, the drive for battles grew. And in inspiration to Shepard’s home world Earth, created the first intergalactic colosseum. Where honor was battled by those who trained and died by the blade or gun. Urdnot Mordin, Son of Urdnot Wrex, holds the title of battle master’s in its illustrious battle rings.

Shepard and Miranda had long passed, their memory and deeds never forgotten. Their child sits as the human ambassador and mediator of the Citadel Council. While their ancestors were genetically made to their mother and fathers wishes. And their bloodlines mixed with other members of the Normandy human’s, Miranda Shepard retains the most remarkable resemblance to the heroes of the galaxy. But every so often you can hear Jacobs wit, Kaden Alenko’s biotic prowess, and see Ashley William’s love of poetry.

It is said among the Drell, that the Goddess Arashu walks among the barren wastelands of Rakhana. Brilliantly bathed in blue, she walks the dry dessert land and rising sea. Watching over the tides as live takes hold on the Drell birth world once more. Protecting the plants and souls that remain. In time the Hanar would permit the scholars among the Drell to return. Finding not Arashu walking along the shore, but a lone human-like being, who call themselves Siha. Waiting for the time they could join their love in the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit I didn't think I would end it in bittersweetness. But here we are!  
Thank you InsanelyCapricornus and Gravelight for your lovely comments! Thane is so much fun to write for.
> 
> I am accepting other reader/ME character requests. If there's a character you would like to see a short fluff love story about with Reader NOT being Shepard go ahead and comment below or ask me over on my blog: https://khapikat222.tumblr.com/ask


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